


In-Depth Interview

by abadmeanman



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Background Relationships, F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Nonmonogamy, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abadmeanman/pseuds/abadmeanman
Summary: Alya bemoans the difficulty of getting an interview with Chat Noir to Marinette. Meanwhile, Ladybug notices that Chat Noir's been eyeing a certain reporter with admiration. Then she has a very good idea.





	In-Depth Interview

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlyaBug (MorphologicalMayhem)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorphologicalMayhem/gifts).



> Look... I'm sorry. All of the journalism references I know are American, not French.

* * *

**_Late one evening, via text message:_**  

 

 

 

**Alya** : UGH, Marinette! Whose dick do I have to suck to get an interview with Chat Noir?

 

**Marinette** : his dick

 

**Marinette** : maybe?

 

**Alya** : fuck yes. He can have his way with me any time

 

**Alya** : goes for any superhero, F-Y-fuck-I

 

**Marinette** : ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ooh la la

 

**Marinette** : still got a thing for superheroes huh

 

**Marinette** : you wouldn’t mind sharing him with LB?

 

**Alya** : you know it

 

**Alya** : and hell no I don’t mind

 

**Alya** : exclusives are for breaking news, not for relationships

 

**Marinette** : ain’t that the truth

 

**Alya** : and dont pretend you wouldn’t smash that entire super-bulge

 

**Alya** : you know you want it

 

**Marinette** : ...true.

 

* * *

  _ **Later that evening, after romance activities:**_

__

 

“If you want to get to know her better, why not do an interview? Break the ice like that,” said Ladybug. She curled up more closely onto Chat Noir, enjoying the warmth of his skin on her glove as she wiggled her hand into the slit of his zipper and around his ribs. Sometimes, cuddling with two suits in the way was too much, especially after they’d  “Fair’s fair. She’s already done me, and sharing is caring, after all.”

 

“Oh she’s already done you, you say? Ohh la la!”

 

Ladybug slapped Chat’s midsection gently. Trapping her hand between Chat and his suit was nice and warm and cozy, but it left much to be desired when it came to playful slaps. She huffed at her own feeble attempt and burrowed her face slightly deeper into his extremely nice neck, before re-emerging to make fun of him.

 

“Like you aren’t jealous, _minou_.”

 

“ _Touche_.” He turned himself more towards her with a smile, wrapping his leg around both of hers, to create a sort of cozy black-and-red taco. It was important to stay warm--it gets windy on top of the Eiffel Tower.

 

And if you’re a superhero, where _else_ would you want to hook up?

 

Ladybug giggled through her nose and gave him a short, soft kiss. “I think she’d be interested,” she said. “That last group of photos was _all_ shots of your butt.”

 

“Really? Well, I mean, I _know_ it was, but I mean--really, you think she’d be interested?”

 

“Yeah, definitely!”

 

“Even though she knows about us being together?”

 

“Well… I have it on good authority that “exclusive” is just a word you put in front of breaking news.”

 

* * *

**_Even later that evening, back at Marinette's room:_ **

****

 

**Alya** : MARINETTE HRNFFMFNHRSMIS

 

**Alya** : AAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

Marinette looked at the picture Alya had attached to the message. It was a handwritten note, clearly taped to the outside of her window:

 

_Interested in a little chat?_

_... about yesterday’s attack?_

 

And it was signed with a small black cat’s paw.

 

Marinette smiled and treated herself to a late-night slice of pie. It’s not everyday you get to set up your own personal superhero with your best friend, after all.

 

* * *

**_On an evening several months after that, at Alya's apartment:_ **

 

 

“There’s probably an easier way to get details for the Ladyblog, you know.” Chat Noir’s activities were not supporting his words--he didn’t seem to mind the _difficulty_ of laying a line of kisses down Alya’s throat. Not even a little.

 

“Are we still pretending that’s why we’re doing this?” Alya said in retort, slowing her hands down as they scrambled and tickled through Chat Noir’s anime hair. “I thought we left that conceit behind months ago.”

 

“But I _liked_ it. It made me feel like a secret stealthy spy.” He traced his hands up her back, sneaking them up her unbuttoned flannel with a peculiar species of familiarity one only experiences with a partner you know well, but who doesn’t quite know you. “You know, sneaking into your window at night… exchanging sealed envelopes… exchanging… _meaningful glances_.” To emphasize his point, he pulled away from Alya’s neck and looked up at her from the vantage point of her bust, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.

 

Alya rolled her eyes, but smiled. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, the _height_ of journalistic integrity to do the pelvic slam-dance with your informants. She acknowledged that. But he’d been surreptitiously sneaking her behind-the-scenes details of akuma fights, and patrols, and his and Ladybug’s superhero lives. He started coming by to share little tidbits, and then to share theories, and then just to talk.

 

It hadn’t taken long for them to start sharing more than journalism. So here they were, mere minutes away from the lights-off- _detransformer-moi_ -quiet-giggles-leading-to-prouder-moans type activities that they’d just gotten so _good_ at. Alya combed his hair between her fingers, taking great soft handfuls of it and loving the little sounds he made when she pulled just a bit.

 

“If I recall,” said Alya, as she braced her hands on his chest, savoring the supernatural texture of his suit. “You were pretty excited that I was going to… _pump my sources_ for juicy, _juicy_ details.” As she italicized her words, she emphasized them a different way. With her hips. Onto Chat Noir’s… throbbing dossier.

 

She bent down and pulled his lips up to hers, and felt that same wonderful trembly melting he seemed to do under his skin every time she did something _just_ right. His silly little claws dug into the skin of her back with a pleasant pinpoint intensity, and she felt rippling waves of _shudder_ curl out from the scraping paths he drew on her back.

 

There was nothing at all wrong with this kitty having claws.

 

Under her, Chat was doing his best to not rocket his hips off of her sofa and directly into the very inviting crux of her thighs. But he managed to hold himself back, and enjoy the sensation--blunted though it was through his suit--of being Alya’s personal pommel horse.

 

“I must say, Little Miss Fourth Estate, I’ve always been _quite_ fond of how you pump _this_ particular source.” He smiled into the kiss they shared, and unclasped Alya’s bra with one hand. He’d gotten very good at that, over the months. “You know you’re better than any Woodward _times_ any Bernstein, right? And I’d be happy to--”

 

“If you’re about to make a Deep Throat joke…”

 

“Aww,” said Chat, his ears drooping. “Ruin all my fun.”

 

“Is that so?” asked Alya. She gave him a pinch where she was pretty sure his nipple was under all the magic pleather, and angled her hips a little bit forward onto Chat’s tumescent Sunday edition. The fact that he’d been a Saturday Evening Post just moments ago was not lost on her. “It sure feels like I haven’t ruined any fun at all.”

 

“But you _must admit_ ,” said Chat, in feeble protest. “When you first make out with someone while watching _All The President’s Men_ , it gives the relationship a sort of theme.”

 

“Look, I’ll admit I seduced you under journalistic pretexts,” said Alya. “But can you _please_ use your mouth for something a little more fun?” She cleared her throat, cutting off Chat’s comeback. “For _me_ . Fun for _me_.”

 

Chat Noir, let it be said, took direction well. He pressed one finger to his lips, for silence, and then moved it to Alya’s, tracing it across the curve of her lips and jaw and throat and down the lovely expanse of her skin. When he reached her brassiere, he pulled it away from her in one smooth motion along with her flannel, leaving her topless and perky in his lap. Every breath she took lifted her breasts and made her hips move ever so slightly on top of him, and he took a moment to savor that sight, and that sensation.

 

Alya loved to look down at him, as his face glowed with a quiet, internal little smile, framed by the arms she was braced by, as he sat back and _admired_. The pressure of his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her down to his lips, raised the tiny hairs all over her, and made her shudder. Which made him shudder back.

 

The kiss started gently. Rippling waves of warm silk cascaded out across her nerves as she kissed him, and she felt every little desperate, gasping, short-of-breath huff of air he breathed in as an increasingly insistent pressure against her. And the way he moved his _hips_ into hers made her hum in that type of quiet delight you get when you know the next few hours are going to be even _more_ and even _better_.

 

He started with her lips, and took his time moving lower.


End file.
